


SVS2-10: Fathers of the Bride

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/F - Category, M/M, Romance, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair travel to help their Sleeping Beauty marry her Prince Charming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SVS2-10: Fathers of the Bride

**Author's Note:**

> It started as an idea; was presented to the SVS; turned into a full-scale, no-holds-barred barroom brawl; ended up not bad. Thanks, Fox, WoD and Christi. 

## SVS2-10: Fathers of the Bride

by MrsHamill

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/5Senses/>

The Sentinel Slash Virtual Season is based on characters and concepts developed by, and belonging to, Pet Fly Productions. The episodes of SVS are intended for private, personal enjoyment only. No money is being made, or will be allowed to be made, by any of the SVS authors or by FiveSenses, Inc. from the writing and distribution of these episodes. Any original characters introduced in an SVS episode belongs to the episode author and to FiveSenses, Inc. and should not be used without their permission.

Note on Safe Sex: Episodes of SVS may contain depictions of consensual m/m sex. These depictions may or may not be accompanied by specific mention of items necessary for safe and healthy intercourse. It is the intention of FiveSenses, Inc. and all SVS authors that, even when such items are not explicitly mentioned, their use is to be assumed as a matter of course. All of us at FiveSenses, Inc. are aware of the risks of unprotected sex in today's world and strongly advocate the practice of safe sex, including the use of condoms and other protective devices.

This story is a sequel to: SVS2-09: Matters of Choice 

* * *

Author's E-mail: thamill@cox.rr.com 

Author's Webpage: Mom's Kitchen at <http://www.squidge.org/~foxsden>

**FATHERS OF THE BRIDE**  
by MrsHamill 

* * *

"What time is it?" 

"Five minutes later than the last time you asked." 

"If we don't leave soon, we're not going to..." 

"Jim. Take a chill pill, man. We'll get there in time." 

Blair never once looked up from editing what Jim thought might be the final draft of his dissertation, appearing perfectly comfortable in the cramped airplane seat. The seat in a plane which should have been on its way to Detroit, but which instead sat on the ground at the gate in Cascade Airport, waiting for an early-morning storm to pass so it could take off. Jim squirmed in his too-narrow aisle seat, trying again without success to get comfortable, his long legs already beginning to ache. 

"I hate this." 

Sighing, Blair finally looked up. "I know, Jim. I'm uncomfortable too, you know. But there's nothing we can do about it at all, so we might as well calm down and deal." 

Jim gave Blair a sour look. "When did you become such a zen master?" he asked. 

"Having to deal with you," Blair replied without rancor, then paused, visibly thinking. "And Stacey. Having to deal with both of you. Simon too." 

"Anyone else not perfect around you?" Jim asked sarcastically. "And as I recall, you were the one that flew cross-country with Stacey to Portland all those years ago." 

"Why, yes, that's right, Jim," Blair said with exaggerated patience. "As _I_ recall, it was mainly because you were unable to get the time off and, as I further recall, you paid for both our tickets, and--" 

"And now we're both flying to her wedding," Jim interrupted, blinking. "Sandburg, this is weird." 

Blair chuckled. "No, it's not. Just wait until the rehearsal. _That_ will be weird." 

"Yeah, yeah," Jim said, fidgeting some more. After a moment, he asked, "What time is it?" 

Blair just glared at him and went back to his reading. 

* * *

Shortly, another announcement from the pilot -- the storm was easing and they should be taking off within fifteen minutes -- brought a general shuffle among the passengers as everyone shifted in their seats. A vaguely familiar voice murmuring behind him made Jim turn in his seat -- and he froze. "Good God," he breathed. 

Blair looked up from his editing at that. "What?" 

"You will never in a million years guess who's on this plane with us." 

Grinning slightly, Blair guessed. "Clinton? No, Monica. Um, what's-her-name, from the talk show?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "No, Regis. It's that bitch. The Fed. You remember." 

"Jim," Blair sighed, "every female Fed you've met has been a bitch. At least at first." 

"No, no," Jim said, frustrated. "The one that messed with Stacey, that was looking for that microfiche thing of her parents. What was her name, Mulligan?" 

Blair blinked, then quickly twisted in his seat. Jim looked again too, and saw the woman in question still having a heated conversation with a flight attendant -- something about making a meeting on time. "Wow. You're right, I don't believe it. Was it Saunders?" 

"Sullivan," Jim said abruptly. "Connie or Karen or something like that. Sullivan. I _hated_ her." 

"I thought she got canned after what she tried to pull?" Blair said quietly. "Wasn't she? What's she arguing with the stewardess about?" 

"She's being her usual gracious self and demanding the plane take off immediately," Jim said dryly. "Something about a business meeting she _has_ to be at... so I guess she didn't get canned. This is one time I hope she gets her way. We're going to miss the rehearsal at this rate." 

Blair sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "Jim, the rehearsal is _tomorrow_. We're not going to miss it, all right? And the wedding isn't until _Saturday_. There is plenty of time." 

"Sandburg," Jim said in the tone of the long-aggrieved, matching him emphasis for emphasis, "you know that anything that can go wrong will go wrong here. And this is _Michigan_ we're talking about, and it's _winter_." 

They continued to snipe at each other half-heartedly while the plane finally lifted off and headed east. It beat watching the movie (some awful thing about auto racing) or trying to eat the food, which not even Jim could identify with any certainty. It was a three-and-a-half-hour flight to Detroit Metro, and even though their plane was as big as the last one they had been on, it was jammed with holiday travelers which made it worse. Jim reflected sourly on the greediness of airlines -- which could be the only reason why they tried to cram six seats in a row clearly designed for four. 

He closed his eyes and tried to fall into a doze, but found himself instead remembering Stacey -- remembering the original case, thanks to the presence of Sullivan, and remembering how Stacey managed to burrow in and grow roots in their lives. 

* * *

**EARLY JUNE, 1997**

It was late, though the sky was refusing to turn dark, and Jim Ellison sat on his sofa, nearly zoned on the baseball game playing quietly on the TV before him. A half-finished bottle of beer was on the coffee table, sitting there for so long it had gotten warm. 

A thump in the hallway outside the door to the loft brought him back to life with a jerk, and his head whipped around. Abruptly he was off the sofa, and in two long strides was at the door, yanking it open. "Chief!" 

Blair Sandburg tumbled into the room, backpack first, duffel bag last, and grinned wearily at him. "Hey, Jim." 

"Why didn't you call? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!" Jim grabbed the duffel and followed his roommate into his tiny bedroom. 

"Got an earlier flight on standby," Blair explained, tossing his backpack on the bed. "Stace didn't need me there any more, and I got homesick." He took the duffel from Jim and, after opening the ties, upended it on his bed. The cascade of dirty clothes made Jim take a half step back and wrinkle his nose. 

"How's Stacey settling in?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe to Blair's room. 

"Great," Blair replied, quickly sorting. "I don't know where they dug her up, but the woman who's her host is fantastic. Name's Marian Fischer Rowe, 'of the Pahtland Fishchaahhs, doncha know'," Blair drawled in a nasal New England accent, shooting Jim a grin. "She's a widow with this huge old house. She took Stacey under her wing like a mama duck, and within a day our girl was calling her Aunt Marian. I made sure she was settled at the school, then decided I was a third wheel so I came home." 

Jim frowned slightly. "What does the school look like? It came highly recommended..." 

"I could see why, too," Blair said seriously. He finished his sorting, resulting in two medium piles, and sat on the bed between them to remove his shoes. "The academic side is outstanding. They go pretty much all year 'round -- and Stacey will not only have some of the best teachers and courses on the east coast, but she'll also have therapists and rehab physicians to keep tabs on her. Not to mention Marian. You'd like her, Jim. She's at least as anal as you are." 

Eyes narrowing, Jim nonetheless let that pass. "I'd still like to keep an eye on her," he said, "make sure she's doing okay." 

Blair froze in the act of removing his socks, then shot Jim a slightly guilty look. Jim sighed and rolled his eyes. "Okay, what?" he asked, resigned to the worst. 

"Well, you know," Blair said, carefully not looking at Jim, "we're really the closest thing she's got to relatives now. I, uh, I kinda told her to feel free to call any time. Or email, or, well, you know, and any time she wanted to come out, like on breaks..." 

Apparently Jim wasn't reacting to that revelation quite as Blair expected, and Blair's eyes widened as Jim nodded in agreement and spoke. "Yeah, I already told her she could call any time... I should send her a phone card, and I need make sure she's got my pager number -- she's already got my cell phone number, I gave it to her before she left," he mused. "Make sure she can reach me -- well, us -- any time she may need to. When's her first break?" he added, and Blair's face blossomed into a smile. 

"Man, I was right. You're such a softie," he said, then laughed at Jim's mock scowl. "She gets a break a couple of weeks before Christmas, which lasts until two weeks after. You want to have her come out for the whole time?" 

Jim thought about it. "Yeah," he finally said, slowly. "Yeah. Why not. I've got the time off, we can have a big ol' fashioned Christmas." 

"And Chanukah too," Blair added, his eyes dancing. "Although Stacey's Jewishness is more like mine -- good in theory, not in practice. And she completely missed her bat mitzvah, too," he finished, somewhat sadly. 

"We'll make it up to her, Chief," Jim said, beginning to get into the whole idea of having a kid in the loft for Christmas. "This'll be a great holiday." 

* * *

All the sodas -- taken in desperation against the usual dryness of airplane air -- finally took their toll about three-quarters of the way through the flight, and Jim had to use the lavatory. Of course the one up front was for _first class_ , so he found himself staggering against the bumps to the rear of the plane. The door to the tiny room opened as he approached, and he suddenly found himself face-to-face with Agent Sullivan, who did a classic double-take when she saw him. 

"Detective, uh, El, uh, Ellman?" she said, blinking. 

"Ellison," he corrected her sourly. "Agent Sullivan, right?" 

With that irritating smirk-smile Jim remembered _so_ well, she nodded. "How -- lovely to see you again. Going to Detroit?" 

"That is where the plane is heading," he agreed, pushing past her, something difficult to do considering she tightly clutched a large shoulder bag-briefcase to her side. "You'll excuse me," he added, firmly shutting the door behind him. 

When he returned to the seat, Blair gave him the old lifted-eyebrow look. "What?" 

"What did you say to Sullivan?" Blair asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. "She walked down here just after you got up and started making rude comments about my 'gracious partner.'" 

Rolling his eyes, Jim shifted, trying to get comfortable. "Talk about gracious. The woman could give Leona Helmsley a run for her money." 

"Yeah, and you're Miss Manners," Blair laughed. "She wanted to know why we're going to Detroit, if it was on business." 

"What did you tell her?" 

"That we were going to a wedding, what else? What, you wanted me to lie to her?" 

"No," Jim said, frowning. "I just don't like her." 

Now it was Blair's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, well, news flash: she doesn't like you either. So you're even. Don't worry about it, man. Think about the wedding." 

"Oh, like _that's_ going to calm me down," Jim grumbled, but he made sure Blair saw the smile he was not trying too hard to suppress. 

The flight became increasingly bumpy the closer they got to Detroit, and the pilot finally lit the 'fasten seatbelts' sign, explaining that they were over some rather significant weather. One look from Blair pushed the comment he was about to make back in Jim's throat, and he settled for listening to the air traffic over the radio from the cockpit, nearly zoning on the constant drone of voices. 

A sudden increase in their volume and frequency made him frown, then catching the words "Detroit Metro" made him sit up straight. "What is it?" Blair murmured, looking at him curiously. 

He held his hand up and focused on the cockpit. "Something about an emergency at Detroit," he whispered to Blair, cognizant of their surroundings. "Something's going on." 

"Can you figure out what it is?" Blair subvocalized. 

"Hang on," Jim replied, concentrating. He felt Blair touch his arm -- grounding him -- and smiled, covering that sturdy hand with his own. "Reroute?" he whispered, frowning. "They're going to reroute us? Something's happened at Detroit airport. Oh, shit, they're going to make us land at Chicago. Blair..." 

"Chicago?" Blair hissed, glancing around with a frown. "You sure?" 

"Yeah," Jim murmured, leaning down to Blair's ear. "I heard some kind of emergency, and a snowstorm, and Detroit's been closed down. We're going to turn around and land at O'Hare. Shit, Chief, we're never gonna get there!" 

"Hold on, hold on -- where'd you put that atlas?" Blair demanded, scrunching himself down to yank his backpack out from under the seat in front of him. 

"It's in your backpack," Jim answered. "Why?" 

"Let me see first. Keep listening," Blair replied quietly, pulling out the large Triple-A atlas Jim insisted on packing. "Man, am I glad you're anal," he muttered, thumbing it open to the Michigan page. 

Jim gave him a sour look that was wasted, and turned his attention back to the radio, listening for more answers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blair flipping pages, then watched with a frown as he pulled out a credit card and inserted it into the GTE AirFone. "Sandburg, do you have any idea how expensive that is?" he growled, still keeping half an ear on the radio. 

"Don't worry about it, it's your card," Blair replied cheekily. "Look. We can rent a four-wheel-drive at O'Hare and drive to Brighton. The map's got it being only a three- or four-hour trip, in good weather -- well, maybe less considering how you drive." 

"Ha, ha." 

"We can call Stacey and have her meet us somewhere and guide us in. We can be there by dinner time. Well, late dinner time. But before midnight, surely." 

"Shh..." Jim suddenly heard something and held up his hand. Blair pulled the phone out, consulted the back of the atlas, and began dialing. After a bit, Jim shook his head and looked over at his partner. 

Blair switched the phone to his other ear. "I'm on hold," he muttered. 

"It was an accident," Jim murmured, again leaning into his ear. "A plane skidded off the one runway they've got open in the snowstorm, and it's blocking the way. Doesn't look good for several hours, at least. Maybe not until tomorrow." 

Wincing, Blair said, "Anybody hurt?" 

"I don't think so," Jim answered, but then Blair suddenly started speaking into the phone. The pilot also came on the PA, and Blair put one finger in his ear in order to hear better. 

The announcement of rerouting was met with a loud groan from the passengers. The pilot was apologetic, but tried to put the best face on things, explaining that there would be agents at the gate to help the passengers figure out alternative arrangements. 

Blair hung up to hear the last of it; he was grinning and gave Jim a thumbs up. "Okay, here's the deal," he said, quietly. "Alamo's got SUVs, and I've got one reserved for us. But there's only a few of them left, and we've --" 

"What kind?" Jim interrupted him abruptly. 

"Huh?" 

"What kind of SUV?" Jim repeated, insistently. 

"Jim, what does it matter what--" 

"Sandburg...!" 

"Okay, okay! They're Jeep Cherokees, all right? Does that meet with the Alpha Male's approval?" 

Nodding thoughtfully, Jim said, "Okay. Yeah, I can deal with that." 

"God!" Blair crammed the atlas back into his backpack, then proceeded to stuff his dissertation in as well. "There are times, Ellison... anyway. Here's the plan. I'm smaller and faster than you. Switch places with me, and as soon as we land, I'm out the door. You grab our carry-ons, meet with whoever the airline wants us to meet with, then meet me at the Alamo counter -- it's by the baggage claim. I'll do an OJ through the airport and get our vehicle. Got it?" 

Jim blinked. "What is this, the battle of Anzio?" 

"Every man for himself, Ellison," Blair replied. "In a snowstorm especially. They can't hold it forever, and won't, in fact. I know approximately where their counter is, so you meet me there." 

"All right, General Patton, but we'd better switch seats now. We're going to be on the ground in a half hour." 

"At least we were close to O'Hare," Blair said, scrambling around to switch places. "Could have been worse... this could have happened an hour ago. We might have been circling for hours." 

* * *

Jim had to hand it to Blair, the little guy sure knew how to move in a crowd. No sooner had the 'fasten seatbelts' sign gone off than Blair was on his feet and down the aisle, out of sight. Taking his time and letting other passengers off first, Jim stood, stretched, grabbed Blair's backpack and his gym bag and made his way down the ramp. It wasn't snowing in Chicago, but the sky was leaden and it was cold. 

The terminal was a madhouse. The airline had stationed a good dozen representatives at the gate, but the plane had been packed with people heading east for the holidays, and they were _not_ in a good mood. Jim stayed only long enough to confirm that his tickets would still be good for the return trip, informed them he'd be driving to Michigan from Chicago and didn't need a hotel room, then fought his way through the crowds to the baggage claim area and the rental cars. 

One over -- or rather, under -- dressed young woman bumped into him and kept moving without saying anything. Jim blinked; for a moment, he had a flash of deja vu. The girl had long brown hair and a heart-shaped face, and her dreadful taste in clothing was vaguely familiar... 

* * *

**CHRISTMAS, 1997**

"I _HATE_ YOU!" Stacey shrieked, then slammed the French doors so hard the glass rattled in the frames. Blair closed the front door behind him and put his keys in the basket, then looked at Jim, who stood in the middle of the loft, his face pale and twisted. 

"What the hell was that?" he asked quietly, walking to stand next to Jim, rubbing his arm gently. 

Jim turned anguished eyes on his partner. "I told her she couldn't go out," he said softly. "She was dressed like a hooker, Chief! Practically naked, and it's freezing out there!" 

"Was she going to meet friends or something?" Blair asked, frowning as he shrugged off his coat. 

"No, that's the worst thing. She said she was just 'going out.' I think she was going clubbing. Chief, I'm no good at this fathering business... I know she's old enough to drink but..." 

"Jim," Blair interrupted, his voice equally soft, "you don't have to be good at 'fathering'... remember what her counselor told us before she came out? We're not her fathers -- if anything, we're more like big brothers to her -- but right now, an authority figure or two is what she needs. Stacey has the body of a twenty-one year old but the mind and temperament of a -- well, maybe a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old. In short, she's a teenager. She doesn't have a clue how to handle drinking yet, she's had zip experience." 

"Do you think I did the right thing, then?" Jim asked, swallowing, and Blair's heart ached to see the pain in those pale blue eyes. 

"Yes," he said firmly. "I think you did. And you have to remember, she didn't really mean that. It's her hormones talking." Straightening his shoulders, Blair glared at the doors to his room. "And I think those hormones need a spanking. Let me have a go at her." Jim nodded gratefully. 

"Okay. Thanks, Chief. I'll go start dinner." 

"Have a beer, calm down," Blair suggested, mentally girding his loins. Taking a deep breath, he strode to the French doors and raised his fist to knock... but a slight gust of cold air made his eyes widen and his mouth firm into a straight line. Without bothering to knock, he threw open the doors and caught Stacey in the middle of making her escape out the fire door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he barked harshly. 

She turned defiant, over-made-up eyes to him. "I'm an adult... as you two keep reminding me. You can't _make_ me stay!" she yelled, then turned to go. 

"No, we can't, but you've forgotten some stuff," Blair spat out, dismayed it had come to this. From the moment he had seen Stacey leave the plane at the airport, he was afraid of this confrontation. Simon had warned them about teenagers, but this... 

She paused at his words, and he continued. "Something like your suitcases? Not to mention the rest of your clothes?" When she turned back to him, shocked, he added, "Fine. You're right, you're an adult. Go ahead. But _don't_ expect to come back. Ever." 

Stacey's eyes widened and her face -- beneath the makeup -- paled. "You're... you're bluffing. You wouldn't do that." 

"Want to try me?" Blair said firmly, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow. "You said it yourself... you're an adult, you don't need us. And you just terribly hurt the man who cares more for you than almost anyone on the planet. The man who's shown you nothing but love and care. Why should I be nice to you?" Stacey winced slightly as Blair's words hit home, and he mentally high-fived himself. "So either come in or leave forever... but either way, close the damn door. It's cold outside." 

Her face twisting with effort to hold back tears, she slowly closed the door. She leaned on it, turning away from him, then abruptly ripped off her light coat and threw it on the floor. 

"Oh, very adult," Blair said dryly. 

"I just wanted to go out!" Stacey said loudly, her voice millimeters away from a whine. "It's not _fair_... I am an adult! I can go wherever I want, do whatever I want. But Jim still treats me... treats me... like a..." 

"Like a somewhat spoiled, overindulged and petty teenager?" Blair finished her sentence for her, and she glared at him. Despite her best efforts, tears were beginning to fall, smearing her mascara and making her look like a raccoon. He held in his smile, knowing it would only make things worse. "Look, Stacey, your body may be twenty-one, but your mind... your mind is still young, still growing up. You've improved, you're no longer a twelve year old, but you've still not caught up yet. Not all the way." 

"But... but I..." She sniffed and swallowed. 

"And no, it's not fair," Blair continued implacably, slowly crossing the room to her side. "But _life_ isn't fair. You have to play the cards you were dealt, Squirt; I'm sorry." 

Her lower lip trembled and one hand swiped at her face, coming away streaked with mascara and eye-shadow. "I hate it when you call me that," she said in a tiny voice, looking at him through her lowered eyelashes. 

Blair grinned hugely and chucked her under her chin. "Then I'll have to remember to call you that more often," he teased gently. "Give it time, sweetie. You can't expect your mind to catch up eight years overnight... or six months, or even in two years. It'll happen, but you've got to _let_ it happen." 

Tears fell freely now, and Stacey's breath hitched. "I don't... I... oh, Blair..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and wailed into his shoulder. Blair let her cry while he patted her back gently, murmuring soothing, nonsensical words under her breath. 

Through her hiccupping sobs, he slowly discerned words, although Blair wished that he had Jim's hearing as he tried to decipher them. "...The other girls... Not a baby any more... Want to _do_ things..." Ah. Peer pressure perhaps? Or just hormonal pressure; a young teenager trapped in the body of a young woman. Slowly, the tears turned to sniffles, and he maneuvered them to the small table by the bed, where he could grab a wad of Kleenex. 

"Here," he said, handing her part of the wad while he used the other to blot at her tears. She noisily blew her nose and sniffed hard, her breath still hitching in her chest. "I'm so stupid, I'm never going to be a grown-up," she murmured. 

"Hey, hey, none of that," Blair said, giving her a little shake. "You're doing great, you know that. You're just trying to run ahead a little too far, a little too fast." 

She lifted a mascara and eye-shadow streaked face to his. "What am I going to do? I... I really yelled at him, Blair. I feel so bad." 

"Well, you're going to apologize; but first you're going to wash your face," Blair said, smiling gently. "You look like a Mary Kay convention threw up on you." 

She snorted in sudden giggles, wiping her face with the damp Kleenex. "God, I must look awful. Aunt Marian is always saying stuff like that to me too. And stuff like I don't need makeup, my skin is perfect and all that." 

"She's right," Blair said, steering the girl out of the room towards the bathroom. "You don't need any of that junk. It just hides who you really are." 

"But... I... Maybe I do want to hide me," she said softly, looking down at the sodden tissues in her hand. 

Blair shook his head. "That's not how you grow up, Squirt. Face your fears. Face your self." After a few minutes, she shuddered with a big breath and met his eyes. He grinned. "And face the sink, too. Go wash. Jim's making dinner, and after we eat, if you still want to go out, well, we can go out together." 

Her mouth dropped open and a shy smile blossomed on her face. "Really?" 

"Really. As long as you don't mind having this old fart as your date." 

"Heck no!" she said, hugging him again. She pulled away and looked down at the brown leather mini-skirt, the partially see-through mesh top and the combat boots she wore, then added ruefully, "Maybe I'd better change first." 

Holding back what he really wanted to say, Blair simply said, "Whatever you want, kid. Go clean up, I'll go see how long dinner will be." 

"Okay." He left her heading for the bathroom while he joined Jim at the stove. The delicious aroma of shrimp stir-fry was filling the loft, and he pulled the fixings for salad out of the fridge. 

Jim gave him a relieved smile. "You're going to make a wonderful mom someday, Sandburg," he said. 

"Bite me, Ellison," Blair retorted, chuckling. "She's going to be fine -- although I'll be _much_ happier when Naomi gets here to take over and we can go back to being her big brothers. I told her I'd take her clubbing after dinner, if she still wants to go." 

Jim shot him an alarmed look. "You putting the moves on our Stacey? Maybe I'd better tag along to chaperone." 

"Jim!" Blair looked up at his partner, aghast. "Give me a break! You know I'd _never_..." 

"I don't know, Sandburg," Jim said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I mean, you and the ladies... I'm not sure you should be left alone with her..." 

About to offer a heated, angry retort, Blair looked fully into Jim's face and realized his leg was being pulled -- _hard_. "You dick." Jim started chuckling. "You sneaky, lying, conniving asshole, I oughta..." 

* * *

Jim spotted Blair at the baggage claim area, sitting on their big suitcase, holding the garment bag that held their tuxes, a shit-eating grin on his face and a set of keys in his hand. The sight of his lover -- and the memories of that first Christmas -- made Jim smile, and he ruffled Blair's hair in affection. "Hey, hey, watch the hair there," Blair laughed, ducking. 

"From the expression on your face, it looks like you done good, right?" Jim asked, taking the suit bag and slinging it over one shoulder. 

"Yup," Blair replied, relieving Jim of his backpack and towing the large suitcase behind him. "We got us a Jeep Cherokee. We'll have to take a shuttle to the lot where it's parked, but I know where it is. I've got us a map out of O'Hare and directions how to get to I-94. And Alamo has a branch office in Ann Arbor, which is less than an hour from Brighton, so we can call Stacey with our ETA and have her meet us there." 

Jim was nodding as Blair spoke, admiration in his smile. "Not bad, Junior, not bad at all. So, how much is this little excursion going to cost us?" 

"Hey, Jim, it's only money, right?" Blair laughed. "It's going to take us a good hour to clear Chicago, and I figure once we get past Gary, we're looking at about three hours to Ann Arbor. But I don't know what the road conditions..." 

"Detective Ellison." 

Blair had been steering them towards the front and the shuttle buses, but now they found their way blocked by Agent Sullivan -- her small suitcase at her feet and her leather satchel still clutched tightly to her side as though superglued there. Jim scowled. "Agent. You wanna excuse us? We have a shuttle to catch." 

"Actually, I'd like to talk to you about that," she said. The expression on her face told Jim she was struggling to be cordial. "Your partner managed to grab one of the last four-wheel drive vehicles available, and I presume you're going to drive it to Detroit." 

"Ann Arbor, actually," Blair said, ignoring the grimace Jim gave him. "We're really headed for Brighton." 

"Ann Arbor," she repeated, frowning. "Well, that's closer than I am now. Detective, I absolutely _must_ be in Detroit tonight; it's imperative." 

"Maybe you could charter a plane," Jim said shortly, moving as if to pass her. Blair elbowed him in the ribs. 

"Please," she said, looking as if the word hurt her to say. "I'd be willing to split the cost of the vehicle, as well as the gas and driving. I know you don't like me very much, Detective," she added grudgingly, "but right now you're my only hope to make it to Detroit. My -- job might depend on it," she added. "Please." 

Jim opened his mouth to tell her where to go, but Blair elbowed him again. "Jim, c'mon, man," he whispered. "The lady's in a bind. What could it hurt? And it'll save us some bucks." 

"Excuse us," Jim said, pulling Blair to one side. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed at Blair once they were out of earshot. "Four or more hours trapped in a car with that... that..." 

"A hundred and seventy-five bucks, Jim," Blair interrupted in a whisper, just as insistent. "That's how much it cost us to rent that truck, after taxes and insurance and all that shit. Now tell me half that isn't worth doing someone a favor." Jim ground his teeth together and glared at Blair, who glared right back. "C'mon, Jim," he added. "Grandma Anna says you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It's only four hours or so, then we'll be rid of her." 

"She's not a fly, she's a fucking hornet," Jim snarled, but he knew that they would do it. He always did what Blair wanted him to do. Always. "Oh, all right. But you get the cash from her, up front, you hear me?" 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Awright, awright," he said, patting Jim's arm. "Don't worry, your faithful sidekick will take care of everything, Kemosabe." 

"Yeah, well step it up, Toto. We got a lot of hard travel to do." 

"Woof to you too, man," Blair replied, but he was grinning. And, dammit, Jim was too. How did Blair _do_ that? 

* * *

It was just after noon, Chicago time, when they left, and by the time they hit Michigan and switched to Eastern time, it was going on three. Jim insisted on doing all the driving, as usual, and Blair let Sullivan take the shotgun seat. Skirting Lake Michigan, they headed east towards Kalamazoo, where they hit the first fat flakes of snow, drifting lazily from a lowering sky. Blair called Stacey from his cell phone after they left O'Hare, getting the full scoop on the accident at Detroit Metro Airport. It wasn't as bad as first feared: a plane had skidded off the runway but hadn't actually crashed, and no one was hurt. But between the accident and the heavy snowfall, it would be a while before the airport was up and running. 

They agreed to talk later, once Blair was more certain of their ETA, and Stacey assured him that she and her fiance would meet them with no problem in Ann Arbor, whenever they arrived. "The snow's pretty heavy up here, but it's already starting to taper off," she told Blair. "I don't think we're going to get more than four or five inches. The interstates should be fine." 

"Fabulous," Blair said into the phone. "You make sure you don't come down to get us alone, you hear, Chiquita?" 

"I hear, oh mighty one," Stacey replied, laughing. "Todd knows Ann Arbor pretty well anyway, and I don't; he'll drive. Call me when you get closer." 

"Will do, hon. Bye." 

"We all set then, Sandburg?" Jim asked, looking at Blair in the rear-view mirror. 

"Yup. Stacey and Todd will come meet us in Ann Arbor. I told her we'd call when we got closer and let her know." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim could tell Sullivan was looking at him curiously. "Stacey... Neumann?" she asked. 

"Yeah," Jim said, grudgingly. "She's getting married this weekend. We're, uh, well..." 

"We're the fathers of the bride," Blair interjected from the backseat, laughing. "Stacey asked us to give her away." 

Sullivan blinked. "You've stayed in touch with her, all these years?" she asked, looking between the two men. 

"Well, yeah," Jim said, wondering why he felt defensive. "We're the closest thing she has to family in Cascade, now, and, well, she's come out and stayed with us every now and then." 

"Once we got her settled at her school, that is," Blair added. "She's a good kid. We've always felt a little, oh, I don't know, protective of her. Especially Jim," he added, grinning at Jim in the mirror. 

"Oh, right, and you weren't," Jim grinned back. 

"So, she came and stayed with you during her breaks?" Sullivan turned from her appraisal of the road outside the windshield and looked at Jim. 

"Yeah, a couple of Christmases, some summers. We've had some good times," Jim replied, feeling more comfortable talking about Stacey with the woman. "After that first trip, anyway." 

"Why? What happened then?" 

"Let's just say Stacey had a lot of growing up to do," Blair piped up from the backseat. "A _lot_ of growing up. But that was only natural, after all." 

Jim smiled, remembering the good part of that trip. Stacey had gone back to Portland a much more subdued, thoughtful girl than the one who had arrived with a chip on her shoulder. 

"I guess I could understand Christmas," Sullivan was saying, frowning. "After all, her whole family was gone. But... she came out other times too?" 

"Oh, yeah," Blair said. "She'd spend at least a week, sometimes two, with us during the summer. We tried to get time off during that time, so we could go camping or something. She loves to camp." 

"She loves to fish," Jim interjected. "She's a good fisherwoman too. Caught this trout once --" Jim took his hands off the wheel briefly to indicate about eighteen inches of length-- "landed it all by herself. We've got the picture up on our wall at home. She just glowed." 

"Yeah, I remember that, that was her first summer with us," Blair said, his voice soft with memory. "That was one fantastic summer. Remember how Simon came out and joined us for the last weekend? That's when Stacey caught that fish." 

"And how she and Rhonda and Megan basically bought out the stores before-hand?" Jim added, chuckling with Blair at the memory. "She didn't spend every summer or Christmas with us," Jim added. "We flew out to Portland once for the holidays, too." 

"Her sponsor, Marian, is just a terrific lady," Blair added. "We couldn't have asked for a better influence on Stacey." 

"Did she meet her fiance in Portland?" Sullivan asked. She actually seemed interested in Stacey, and Jim tried to push aside his normal suspicious nature and assume it was because of genuine care. 

"Yeah, she met Todd a couple of years ago," Blair said. "He's a Chem-E at MIT, and they met when Stacey was doing some course work at Boston U. Matter of fact, we met him that Christmas we flew out there." 

* * *

**CHRISTMAS, YEAR BEFORE LAST**

As they left the Portland airport behind for icy, snowy streets, Stacey handled Marian's big boat of a car with confident ease, making Jim smile with pride. "I still can't believe you're out here!" she bubbled, easing to a stop at an intersection. 

"Well, you've flown all the way out for Christmases -- why couldn't we?" Jim said, glancing in the back seat at Blair. 

"Yeah, and out here, Simon can't make us work," Blair added, grinning back at Jim. 

Stacey rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Work. And how much you _hate_ it..." she said wryly. 

"Busted, Jim," Blair said softly, chuckling. "You can't pull anything over on our Stacey for long." 

"I've spent too much time with you two jokers to believe it," she replied tartly, grinning at Jim. 

They chatted happily all the way to Marian's house, Stacey asking after the guys in Major Crime, Rhonda, Megan and Naomi. Blair got her caught up on the latest gossip while Jim rolled his eyes and made snide comments. 

It was dusk when they arrived, the crunch of tires on salt in the driveway announcing them. The houses on Marian's block were mostly old, two-story Victorian types, with small front yards, big back yards, and expansive porches. Most of them were decorated with lights for Christmas, and there was an electric Menorah in the window of Marian's house as well, five of its candles lit. Both Jim and Blair smiled to see it, and Jim wrapped his arm around Stacey's shoulders as they walked up to the porch. 

Marian Rowe, a small, upright woman with iron-gray hair, waited for them in the doorway, smiling a warm welcome. "Hello, Blair, it's lovely to see you again," she said as she closed the door behind them. Blair kissed her cheek as he unbuttoned his coat, then indicated Jim. 

"Marian, this is Jim Ellison," he said. Jim hastily dropped his suitcase and shook the hand offered to him. 

"Ah, the famous Jim Ellison," Marian said, smiling broadly. "You have a lot to live up to, young man." 

Jim shot a glance at Stacey, who grinned and blushed. "I, uh, left my cape at home, ma'am," he joked, and all of them laughed. 

"Stacey, take their coats, and I shall show them their room," Marian directed. "You are sharing a room, I hope you don't mind?" 

"Of course not, Marian," Blair said, handing his coat to Stacey and hefting his ubiquitous backpack. "I hope we're not putting you out." 

"Certainly not," she replied. "In fact, I've just lost two boarders. But I'm sure more will move in with the new year and the new semester. The Academy keeps me busy, which is just how I like it." 

Jim looked around as he followed his hostess up the stairs. The house was at least fifty years old, probably twice that or more, and clearly meticulously maintained. Brass fittings gleamed, old and slightly faded oriental rugs looked soft and inviting, and the hardwood floors were spotless even to Jim's discerning eye. The entire house smelled good but not overwhelming... pine from the fat Christmas tree sparkling in the living room, Murphy's Oil Soap from the floors and woodwork, cinnamon and what smelled like a mouth-watering ham from the kitchen, which Jim inferred was in the back of the house. 

The second floor was a long hallway broken up by doors and small tables. Marian led them to the second door on the right, which opened on to a small bedroom containing two twin beds, two dressers and a small desk. The room was painted a cheerful yellow that matched the yellow and white striped curtains over the large windows. 

"I do hope this will do for you," Marian said as she led them in. "The bathroom is across the hall, one door further down." 

"This is lovely, ma'am, thank you," Jim said, putting his suitcase on one bed and glancing around appreciatively. Rather than being glaring, the yellow was soothing and the room was so clean it could have passed muster with NASA. 

"Oh, please, call me Marian," she said, smiling up at Jim. 

"Well, then you have to call me Jim," he replied, grinning back. "You've got a beautiful house, Marian." 

"Thank you, Jim," she said, delighted by the compliment. "It's been in the Fisher family for generations. She's a grand old place, and has taken care of many children. My husband and I were not blessed with any, so instead, I care for those the Academy brings in." 

A sudden thump and squeal from the first floor made all three of them start, then Marian chuckled. " _That_ will be Todd arriving," she said dryly. "I've held dinner for you; why don't you wash up and come down. Stacey told me you don't keep kosher, Blair, and neither does she. Dinner is ham and scalloped potatoes, and will be served as soon as you're down." 

Jim could practically see Blair drooling. "We'll be right there, Marian," he said emphatically, and then grinned at their chuckles. She left them alone, and Jim quickly opened his suitcase and pulled a couple of shirts out to hang. "Come on, man," Blair said, opening the door. 

"Just hanging up a couple of shirts to get the wrinkles out," Jim said. Then he paused and looked at Blair. "Chief? Who's Todd?" 

Blair frowned, thinking. "Uh-oh," he said. "I think... I think Stacey's got a boyfriend -- someone she met while she was doing that coursework at Boston U... remember? She's mentioned that name in a couple of emails over the last few months." 

"A boyfriend?" Jim blinked. "A _boyfriend_? As in, date? Not a platonic friend?" 

Blair sighed. "Yes, Jim, that is the common definition. She was being very mysterious about him last week." 

Jim swallowed. Okay, it had to happen sooner or later; after all, Stacey was an attractive young woman. But for Jim's peace of mind, it could have waited another few years. Say, ten. Or even twenty. Sternly, he reminded himself that he was NOT Stacey's father, that Stacey was an adult, and that he should keep an open mind. 

And anyway, Blair would absolutely _kill_ him if he tried anything with this... Todd... person. 

Washing up quickly, Jim and Blair went downstairs, nearly dying of bliss on the aroma of dinner alone. They followed voices to the back of the house and the kitchen, a large, comfortable room done in New England kitsch -- something which normally would have made Jim want to vomit but which somehow looked normal here. Marian was removing a ham from the oven, and Stacey was standing to one side, leaning back against a tall, dark-haired young man whose arms were wrapped snugly around her. 

Jim's eyes narrowed... so this was Todd. The guy looked to be about Stacey's age, was two or three inches shorter than Jim, had dark, short hair and a fair complexion. He seemed to be in good shape -- not like a weight trainer, but maybe runner or basketball-player shape -- which earned him points in Jim's book. But there was no doubt about it... 

Jim could take him. Easily. 

"Ow!" A sudden sharp elbow shoved in his side made Jim exclaim and look down at Blair accusingly. 

The sound made Stacey turn. "Jim! Blair! Come and meet Todd," she said, stepping out of the young man's arms and dragging him with her. "Todd, this is Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison; guys, this is Todd Harrison." Todd shook hands with Blair, then Jim, smiling widely. Jim was tempted to check his grip, but managed to refrain under a glare from Blair. 

"Nice to meet you, man," Blair said. "You're all Stacey's been writing about lately." 

"Blair!" Stacey blushed, but Todd just smiled and gave her a squeeze. 

"Well, that's only fair," he replied in a light tenor voice. "Since you're all she talks about, and she's about all I've been writing home about too." 

"So, Todd, you're going to school at MIT?" Blair asked, as Marian announced dinner. They followed her directions into the dining room and sat at the big dining room table, Blair and Todd chatting about school. Of course, Blair knew several people at MIT, and did his best to find a mutual acquaintance. 

Some time later, Jim waddled into the front room of the big old house, groaning from a delicious and filling dinner. Marian had politely but firmly turned down all offers to help with dishes, conscripting Stacey into the clean-up process, but instructing the men to go do their own thing. Todd and Blair disappeared somewhere, leaving Jim to explore. 

The parlor or living room or whatever you would call it was cozy and warm, and the tree in front of the bay window was sparkling and fragrant. There was an enormous wing chair by the fireplace that simply looked too comfortable to pass up, so with a sigh of pleasure, Jim sank into it, closing his eyes and letting his mind and senses drift. 

In the kitchen, he could hear Stacey and Marian cleaning up after dinner, their chatter idle and affectionate. Blair and Todd were somewhere else in the house, and Blair was waxing poetic about college life -- heh. So speaks the perpetual student. Outside, Jim could almost hear the cold -- the crackle of ice and snow and the crunch of tires on salt and sand -- and could tell that it would snow again before midnight. _How_ he could tell, he wasn't sure, but he would bet his bottom dollar on it. 

Maybe he should mention that to Sandburg. 

Then again, maybe not. 

After some time had passed, Jim heard footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes to see Todd step hesitantly into the room, as if debating whether he would be welcome. Jim briefly contemplated scowling, but between the food and the ambiance and the travel, he was far too mellow. With a movement of his head, he invited the young man into the room with him. Todd sank on the matching chair across from Jim with a heartfelt sigh. 

"Sandburg wear you out?" Jim asked, amused. 

"He... well, Stacey told me about him, but, well, I don't think I was quite prepared." Todd smiled. "He's in Marian's library. I don't think he even knows I'm gone yet." 

"In a library? I'd call that an excellent possibility," Jim agreed. "Sandburg and libraries are old friends." 

"He's just as smart as Stacey said, though, maybe smarter," Todd mused. "I mean, he's an anthropologist, right?" Jim nodded. "And I'm studying to be a chemical engineer. But he understood what I said. And he asked questions that I don't even know how to answer." Todd shook his head, but Jim chuckled. 

"Yeah, that's Sandburg," he said. "Give him an opening and you'll regret it. But you'll probably learn something anyway." After a couple of minutes, Jim continued. "Must be a drive from Boston to here, huh?" 

"Yeah," Todd said, somewhat ruefully. "I'm spending a lot of money on gas lately. But it's not too bad a drive. Boston area is worse, actually." 

There was a comfortable silence between the two men for a time, then Todd cleared his throat. "Um, I wanted to thank you for something," he said hesitantly. When Jim raised his eyebrow, encouraging him to go on, he did. "Stacey told me you'd called the Academy and gotten a... well, helped her out of a bind with one of her teachers." 

Jim nodded, wincing. "Yeah. She, uh, wasn't too pleased. But..." 

"Well, I wanted to thank you," Todd said firmly. "She had told me all about the woman, and I was about ready to come up here and strangle her. The hoops that -- that woman was putting Stacey through were ridiculous. And Stacey is just so damn stubborn sometimes, she kept trying even though it was totally unfair." 

"Stacey has a stubborn streak about a mile wide and six deep," Jim agreed. "When I finally managed to get the whole story out of her, I was livid," he admitted. "Blair was even more so. Between the two of us, we managed to put enough pressure on that crazy bitch to get her to change Stacey's course load. Then Stacey called me and reamed me out for it." Jim grinned at the memory, and found Todd smiling too. 

"She's pretty special, isn't she?" he said, his eyes gleaming. 

"Yeah. She's a good kid. And -- she's very special to us, as well." Jim tried, he really did try, not to sound menacing, but this was _Stacey_ they were discussing and the man across from him was her -- Jesus, Mary and Joseph -- _boyfriend_. Territorial instincts are very, very difficult to overcome in a Sentinel. 

"I can see that," Todd replied seriously, leaning forward in his chair. "She's very special to me too, Mr. Ellison. I'd never do anything to hurt her, never. I want you to know that. Somebody like Stacey comes along only once in your lifetime, you know?" 

Jim examined the young man sitting across from him with all his senses on full alert. Everything he had told him Todd was sincere in his caring, in his fondness for Stacey. There were no warning bells going off in the back of Jim's head, and he almost regretted that. "You're right," he finally said. "And I believe you. I hope you don't prove me wrong." 

"You don't worry about that, Mr. Ellison," Todd said. "But it's nice to know that Stacey has protectors like you and Blair looking after her. Well, and Marion. Me, too, now." 

"Not that she needs much looking after," Jim admitted. "Thanks." After a moment, he added, with a smile, "Call me Jim." 

* * *

"We got the call about the proposal early this year," Jim said. "Stacey didn't come out last Christmas; she went home with Todd." 

"You know, Jim," Blair said thoughtfully, "that should have tipped us off. We really should have been expecting this." 

"Hindsight, Sandburg," Jim said, sighing. "Plus, I just didn't want to believe it, I guess." 

"Well, duh," Blair replied. "You hit that right on." 

Wanting to divert attention away from his own nerves over the wedding, Jim abruptly changed the subject. "So what have you been doing for the Agency lately, Sullivan?" 

She started and blinked at him, and her face flushed. Jim frowned at the road after glancing at her, wondering what had brought on that reaction. "Oh, this and that," she hedged, bringing that damn over-the-shoulder briefcase up from her feet to her lap. She simply wouldn't relinquish the thing, even to put it in the back of the vehicle with the other luggage. There must be important papers or something in it, Jim had decided. 

"Let me guess, classified, right?" Blair laughed from the backseat. "You Feds, it's always something." 

"Yeah," she agreed, wrapping her arms around her briefcase and laughing slightly, nervously. "You know how it is. Need to know, and all that." 

"Well, have you been on the west coast all this time?" Jim asked, trying to figure out why she seemed so jittery. "Or have you been out here in Michigan?" 

"Well, here and there," she said, shifting. "Back and forth, you know how it is. But you've got me curious now," she added hastily. "What happened when Stacey told you she was getting married?" 

Before Jim could turn the subject back, Blair was laughing in the backseat. "Oh, man, Jim has been a wreck!" he said, and Jim flushed again. 

* * *

**LATE JULY, THIS YEAR**

Jim Ellison lifted his head from its nest of drool-dampened hair and peered blearily at the bedside clock. Six-thirty... but it was Saturday. With a heartfelt sigh, his head dropped back down and Ellison allowed himself to drift on a sensuous cloud of scent from the hair, warmth from the body pressed up to him, and the peace and quiet of the loft... 

The phone rang. 

For a moment, Jim actually considered ignoring it and letting the answering machine pick it up, but his sense of duty was too ingrained for that. Sighing, he made a long arm and snagged the cordless phone from the bedstand. "Ellison." 

"Jim? I didn't wake you up, did I?" 

"Stacey? Stacey! No, honey, of course not!" Lying next to him, Blair -- who had gone rigid at the sound of the phone ringing -- relaxed and rolled over. Jim could feel Blair's smile against his breastbone and they both snuggled into the pillows. "You can call any time, Stacey, you know that, but... is everything okay? Is anything wrong?" 

She was laughing. "No, no, of course not, don't go all _dad_ on me now, Jim," she said. 

"That idiot professor not giving you a hard time any more? I swear, Stacey, I'm going to fly out there..." 

Laughing harder, Stacey said, "No, I don't even have her any more. I tested out of everything she teaches at my PAS test last week. My advisor said I'm probably smarter than her anyway." Jim couldn't miss the hint of smugness in that statement and felt a surge of pride. Stacey had come so far from that cowering woman-child of four years ago. 

"You probably are," Blair said, his voice muffled by the blanket. 

"Huh? Was that Blair? Hi, Blair!" 

Tipping the phone down so Blair could have better access, Jim grinned when Blair said, "Morning, sweetie," and managed to sound almost exactly like Naomi. Well, maybe Naomi with a chest cold. 

"Is that why you're calling, honey?" Jim asked, still tipping the phone far enough for Blair to hear clearly. 

"No, no, I was going to tell you that this afternoon, but I couldn't wait to tell you, what happened, last night, and... and... oh, Jim, Blair, he ASKED! Todd really ASKED me to MARRY him!" 

Jim blinked. It took a moment for his sleep-fuddled brain to process what she had actually said, but finally it hit with the force of a tsunami. "Todd?" Jim choked. 

"Yes!" Stacey was basically squealing now, and Jim could hear her jumping up and down. "Last night, with a ring, and he, he... oh, I'm so... I just... aaahhh!" 

Poking his head out from under the covers, Blair examined Jim's face, which had gone pale and shocky. Shaking his head, he plucked the phone from Jim's nerveless fingers. "Hey Squirt, that's great! What a fabulous surprise!" 

"Blair? Oh, Blair, I'm so... I'm so... oh, Blair!" Through the phone line, Jim could hear the sniffles as Stacey was obviously overcome by emotion. Probably not for the first time that day. 

Meanwhile, Jim was still trying to process what he had just heard. Stacey was engaged to be married. Stacey. _His_ Stacey. Well, technically, not _his_. But still. Stacey was engaged to be married! Jim groaned, almost in pain, and closed his eyes. 

"No, no, he's happy too, you know Jim when he goes _dad_ ," Blair was saying, laughing at Jim's reaction. "So tell me everything, Chiquita. What did he say, and where?" 

With part of his mind, Jim listened in to the conversation that dealt with going down on one knee, and presenting a ring, and words of undying love, and -- this could _not_ be happening... 

"Stacey, are you sure?" Blair was saying. "That's awfully soon. It's hard to plan a wedding at all, but December's only five months away." 

"But Blair, you know we get the long break in December, the winter section break, I was going to come home then, remember? And Todd's parents are in Michigan, and all his family, and his mom's simply the best, I just love her to pieces. She thinks it's a fine idea. And then we can have our honeymoon right after, during the rest of the break and both of us graduate this spring! Well, different degrees, but still... But... But..." 

"But what, sweetie?" Blair asked softly, sharing a grin with Jim at her enthusiasm. Stacey was so much the grown-up now; it was nice to see the little girl come back. 

"I want to get married in Brighton, that's where Todd's family is, but I'm not sure since..." 

"You just remember one thing," Blair said firmly, and Jim snorted. Talk about going 'dad' on her! "This will be _your_ day. Anywhere you want it is enough for us. You could have it on the moon -- you know we'll be there." 

"Oh, Blair," Stacey said, sniffling again. "You sure? 'Cause, 'cause, well, I, um, I wanted you and Jim to like um, give me away...?" 

Something hard inside Jim's heart just melted at that point, and he found himself fighting back emotion. Realizing Blair was absolutely speechless (an incredibly rare occurrence), Jim grabbed the phone back. "Oh, honey, are you sure?" he asked thickly. 

"Uh-huh," Stacey replied softly. "I wouldn't even think about anybody else, Jim." 

Blinking back the tears that were obviously caused by an allergic reaction, Jim gave Blair a reflexive hug. "Then we'd be honored," he said sincerely. "Absolutely thrilled. Stacey, I -- I can't believe..." 

"I know," she said, some of the bounce coming back into her voice. "I'm getting married!" 

Grabbing the phone back, Blair said, "Listen, Stacey, we need to talk with Todd's parents. Because we're going to pay for this... no, no, you listen to me, young lady..." Jim tuned him out, agreeing completely. They _would_ pay for it. Well, at least some of it. Whatever Stacey would let them pay. And maybe a little more, if he could get away with it. Insurance money and inheritance be damned. And first thing Monday, he'd run another background check on Todd, this time including his family, and their church -- including the pastor -- and the entire city of Brighton, and maybe Michigan had a database of... 

He was yanked back to the present by Blair smacking him in the chest. "Okay, so let's try to get a phone call together tomorrow afternoon then. Let's see, two o'clock here would be, what, five there?" 

"Yeah, that's right," Stacey said, "and I'll call Todd and get it set up. You know, it might be easier to do this online, since Todd's mom and dad are divorced. But regardless, I'll email you, okay? With their phone numbers and everything." 

"Okay, Squirt. We'll talk to you then." Blair waggled his eyebrows at Jim, who took the phone as indicated. 

"Love you, Stacey," was all Jim could say, before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up. Suddenly thoroughly exhausted, Jim collapsed on his back, ignoring Blair's chuckles. 

"You are such a wuss," Blair said, settling comfortably on his chest. 

"Stacey's getting married," Jim said, still trying the words on for size. 

"Uh-huh. How you feel about that, daddy-o?" 

"Stacey's getting married." 

"Jim, ah, man, I think you already said that." 

"Stacey's getting married. Blair, Stacey's getting _married_!" 

Dissolving into helpless laughter, Blair shook his head. "You are going to be a total basket case before this wedding, aren't you?" he said, getting his laughter under control, but still grinning. 

"I wonder how many Harrisons there are in Brighton?" Jim asked, abruptly but gently pushing Blair off his chest and rising. "I'll get his address when Stacey emails us... or... Would the school give it to me if --" 

"Oh, no, no no no...!" Blair said, snagging his Sentinel by one arm before he could descend the stairs. "You are NOT going to start running any background checks again! Todd was enough! You hear me, Ellison?" 

"But Blair..." 

"NO! En-Oh!" Squirming in his grip, Jim broke free and pelted down the stairs, aiming for the office and the laptop therein. "Ellison! ELLISON!" Blair yelled, leaping out of bed and following his lover. 

* * *

Jim's face was flaming -- even though Blair had left out the more intimate portions of that memory -- but Blair and even Sullivan were chuckling. "Jim's been an absolute basket case over this," Blair confided to her. "Ever since Stacey came out this past August. Every time one of us would start talking about the wedding, Jim would just choke and change the subject." 

"I did not," Jim protested weakly. "It's just... Stacey's always... You know. She's... and the whole wedding thing..." 

"Jim, give it a rest," Blair laughed when Jim couldn't seem to finish a sentence. "You are totally, utterly whipped. And it's just adorable." 

"Oh, shut up, Sandburg." 

The snow got heavier the farther east they went, but the interstate road crews were out in force and were keeping up with it easily. Jim made good time, the Jeep had good traction, and the reminiscing was making the time fly -- Sullivan seemed to want to encourage it, and in fact, was making an effort to talk about Stacey rather than herself. Before he knew it, they were about an hour from Ann Arbor, and night -- coming early between the time of the year and the overcast -- had fallen. Blair was engrossed in the road atlas, using his penlight to figure out how much further they had to go. 

"Jim, man, have you seen the sign for Climax yet?" he asked, distracted. 

"Yeah, we passed it about five minutes ago," Jim replied. "Should have been going in the other direction, since we passed Nirvana about fifteen minutes ago." 

"No shit? C'mon, you're joking." Jim chuckled and shook his head. 

"We're going to need to stop at the next exit with services," he added. "I need gas and we should probably get something to eat. All right by you, Sullivan?" 

"Yes, that's fine," she replied, rubbing her eyes. She appeared to have been dozing. "I'll need to call and... report, anyway," she added. 

"You can use my cell phone," Blair offered automatically. "I'm getting good reception out here." 

"No, no, that's all right, I, uh, need to stretch my legs anyway." 

There were signs for services at the next exit, and Jim took it, turning left to a small row of fast food joints, a Stuckeys, and two truck stops. The snow had calmed down to little more than a slow fall of fat flakes, beautiful in the lights from the highway and the parking lots. Jim pulled the Cherokee into the Arby's parking lot, and Blair groaned. 

"Now, don't give me grief here, Chief," he said, chuckling and expertly sliding into a parking space. "I don't think Michigan has Wonderburger and there's no way in hell I'm gonna eat at MacDeath. You can walk over to the Stuckey's and get peanut brittle if you want." 

"Oh, all right," Blair groused, the grin on his face belying his words. "At least they've got a salad bar. I feel the need for something hot anyway. All this snow is giving me a complex." 

Groaning, joints popping, the three of them climbed out of the car and stretched, then hurried inside to the warmth of the restaurant. There was a line of people at the registers, and Jim raised an eyebrow at it. Sullivan disappeared into the ladies' room. "You want to order for me while I go get gas?" he asked Blair. 

"Sure, man," Blair said, studying the menu. By the time Jim had filled the tank on the Cherokee and come back to eat, Blair had gotten them food and was waiting at a table in the back of the crowded restaurant. Sullivan was nowhere in sight. 

"Where's Sullivan?" Jim asked, sliding into his seat opposite Blair. 

His mouth was full, so Blair used this chin to point to the row of pay phones. Sullivan, her large leather attache case -- the one she refused to let go of no matter what -- on a strap over her shoulder, was hunched over one of the phones. Swallowing, Blair said, "I don't know why she wouldn't use my cell phone. I watched her feed about six pounds of coins into that thing." 

"Well, if she doesn't hurry up, she's not gonna eat anything," Jim decided, tearing into his large, gooey sandwich. "I want to get back on the road right away. Do you know how much it cost to fill that tank up? Remind me never to get a Jeep, okay?" 

Now that he knew where she was, Jim absently focused his hearing on her, filtering out the cacophony of the restaurant automatically. One part of him marveled at his efficiency, while another part of him wondered why he was doing it. 

"...I told you, I'll be there!" she was snarling into the phone. "I can't do anything about the weather or the damn airline." Jim frowned. It didn't sound like her temper around her superiors had improved any. "...No, it's a rental. I'll pick up the contract in Ann Arbor at the Alamo place, when Ellison drops it off, then drive to Ypsilanti." Now that he thought about it, why wouldn't she have gone through the feds in Chicago to get a vehicle? Why the song-and-dance about the rental car? "...You'll get it, all right? I'll be there before midnight. Just wait." With that she slammed the phone down, and Jim winced a bit at the noise. 

"Jim? Jim!" Blair snapped his fingers under Jim's nose, calling him back to the table. "Where were you, man?" 

"Just... uh, listening. Hey, did Sullivan tell you anything about why she needed to go to Detroit?" Jim asked, following the woman with his eyes as she approached the counter to order. 

"Huh? No, nothing, but didn't you say she told the stewardess something about a meeting she had to be at?" Blair was nearly finished with his sandwich, and was picking at his salad. 

"Yeah," Jim said, still frowning. "Weird." Picking up his napkin, he reached across the table and wiped a dab of horseradish sauce from Blair's chin. 

Blair grinned at him. "Thanks, mom." 

"Not your mom, little boy," Jim growled, deliberately giving Blair a look guaranteed to melt his brains. "And don't you forget it." 

"Don't look at me like that, man," Blair laughed quietly. "Unless you want Sullivan to know way more about our relationship than is probably prudent." 

Jim just grinned at him, playing footsie under cover of the table. "Easier telling her than it was telling Stacey," he said. 

* * *

**LATE AUGUST, THIS YEAR**

For a change, Stacey's plane was bang on time -- 4:30 on the dot. Jim and Blair met her at gate 37, and Jim grinned to see her. This trip she wore old, faded jeans, comfortable-looking sandals, what looked like a white tank top and a blue cotton shirt over all. He vividly remembered her first trip back west and the pinch-toed high heels that had ended up in the trash bin before she went back to Portland. 

He rescued her backpack as she rushed to hug Blair, then traded it for her, plucking her out of Blair's arms and twirling her around as he soundly bussed each cheek. She giggled and hugged his neck tightly, and he could feel her vibrating with happiness. 

"Okay, let's see it," Blair growled, his face splitting in a huge smile. Jim hadn't a clue what he meant until Stacey held her left hand up, fingers extended. Ah, the ring. 

And there it was, shining on her left ring finger, a large diamond deeply set into a silver band. Silver? Jim looked again and decided no, it was platinum. And the setting was rather old-fashioned... must be an heirloom, then. "It's... lovely," he choked out. Oh, God. It was really going to happen, then. 

He didn't miss the look that passed between Stacey and Blair, but decided to ignore it. "Well, come on, let's get your things," he growled. "The sooner we get home the sooner we can get going tomorrow. Oh, and Rhonda wanted to know if you'd like to go out with her and Megan tonight, for dinner." 

Falling in between the two men, Stacey grinned. "That sounds great! Unless you two had something planned..." 

"Naw," Blair said, wrapping an arm around her neck as they strolled towards the baggage claim. "We thought you might like to go out with them tonight, and then we've got you for almost a week while we camp." 

"Are we going to the same spot? I love that spot," Stacey enthused. 

"Sure are, Squirt, and the trout are already trembling in fear," Blair replied. 

The conversation safely on other topics, Jim let the presence of two of his favorite people just wash over him, settling him down into complacency. He let their conversation ebb and flow around him, contributing when he thought he should, while he grabbed Stacey's suitcase and herded them out to the truck. As long as there was no mention of the 'W' word, Jim was fine. 

Rhonda and Megan showed up at the loft at quarter to six, not long after they had arrived home. Jim had a moment of panic when he took Stacey's suitcase into Blair's old room -- a room that was obviously no longer used nightly. He and Blair hadn't really discussed what to tell Stacey about their relationship -- Stacey hadn't been out the Christmas before, so they hadn't seen each other in almost a year, which was about how long it had been since Blair moved upstairs. And it was _not_ something you mentioned as an aside in email. 

Stacey hadn't seemed to notice any difference, though, and then Rhonda and Megan had shown up, ready to whisk her away. Jim made sure she still had her key, in the unlikely case he and Blair went out while she was gone, then collapsed on the sofa, pulling Blair down with him. "Moment of truth, man," Blair said, easily snuggling into his side. "The look on your face when you opened the French doors..." 

"We're going to have to tell her, aren't we?" 

"Yup." Blair sank back into Jim's embrace, sighing in pleasure. "Don't sweat it. I'll bet you ten dollars she either knows already or has guessed." 

Jim reared back to look Blair in the eye. "You told her." 

"I did not," Blair said, yanking Jim back down. "Nor have I even dropped hints. Do we have a bet or not?" 

"Ten bucks. You're on." 

"Hah. Easy money." Conversation then shifted to dinner, which turned out to be a Blair production while Jim went over the last minute checklist for camping. By ten-thirty, Stacey still wasn't home, and they were back on the sofa, watching some wretched Sci-Fi channel show and making rude comments about it. Rude comments gradually turned into lewd comments, which gradually turned into copping a feel under the guise of tickling, which ended up with them making out. Nothing unusual for the Sandburg-Ellison household... until the lock turned and the door opened. 

Jim had been so caught up in Blair he hadn't heard Stacey's approach until the key in the lock alerted him. Prying his lips from Blair's -- to Blair's dismay -- Jim tried to sit, button and zip back up, a dangerous undertaking at that moment. "Jim?" 

Peeking over the back of the sofa, Jim saw Stacey standing in the doorway, two large shopping bags and her key in her hand. "Ah..." 

Blair managed to squirm his way out from under Jim and also popped up. "Hey, Squirt, have a good time?" he asked, casually fastening his jeans under the cover of the couch, seeming to be far too nonchalant for Jim's taste. Jim was positive his face was radiating in the infra-red. 

"Yeah," she said, closing and locking the door behind her. "Uh, can I come around or should I wait a bit more?" she asked, an impish grin fighting to come through. Jim blushed harder. 

Blair gave Jim a look -- a long look -- up and down, then said, "Yeah, I think we're decent. Are you decent, Jim?" 

"Shut up, Sandburg," Jim growled, burying his head in the sofa cushion. Stacey laughed and, kicking off her sandals, walked into the loft proper. She came into the lounge area and plopped down on the chair opposite them with a sigh. 

"Megan is _such_ a power shopper," she said. "I don't know how she does it. I'm just not that much into the whole mall thing." 

"She wear you out?" Blair asked with a chuckle. 

"Uh-huh." After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, she added -- carefully not looking at them directly -- "So, uh, were you guys going to tell me or just let me figure it out on my own?" 

"Hey, I figured Megan would have filled you in by now," Blair said, thwapping Jim on the shoulder to make him turn around. Jim took a deep breath and did so, meeting Stacey's eyes with rueful grin. 

"Well, she kind of did, but all she would do was hint," Stacey replied, blushing herself. "I swear, she makes me feel like a kid again sometimes, the way she talks. And Rhonda just eggs her on." All three laughed, and after another brief pause, Stacey continued. "You weren't, like, _embarrassed_ to tell me, were you?" 

"No!" Jim said emphatically. "No, nothing like that," he added. "And we _were_ going to tell you, tonight or tomorrow. It's just... well..." 

"Look, I love you two guys," Stacey said softly, sincerely. "I have ever since Blair found me and brought me here -- brought me home. I think... well, I think I figured out a long time ago that you should be together, that you had, you know, feelings for each other. But, well, I don't know... I wasn't gonna _say_ anything, and, you know, it's not really any of my business, I guess," she finished lamely, shrugging and looking at the floor. 

Jim looked at Blair, who looked back with an expression Jim was sure mirrored his own. "Of course it's your business," Blair said. "It's your business for the same reason that you asked us to be in the wedding. For the same reason that Jim can't even contemplate the wedding -- or more precisely, your honeymoon." 

"Stop that," Jim said, giving Blair a glare that just bounced off his grin. "It's your business because... well, it's because we're a family, right?" Jim added, then snorted. "Now, what _kind_ of family..." 

"The Simpsons," Blair said quickly, then yelped when Jim reached out and grabbed his side to tickle him. 

"Jim can be Homer!" Stacey laughed, watching them with delight. 

"Well, the hair fits but I am _so_ not going to be Marge," Blair said raggedly, trying to keep Jim's fingers from his side without a lot of success. 

"No, you're Bart, shorty," Jim said, then ooofed when Blair simply turned and pounced on him, driving him back against the arm of the sofa and holding his hands down with his body weight. "Yeah, a family all right," Jim wheezed, still laughing, "a weird, bizarre, dysfunctional..." 

"New age..." Blair said, getting into the idea with a grin. "Unorthodox, unconventional..." 

"Unique. Avant-garde," Stacey added, giggling. 

"But a family, sure enough," Jim interrupted, glaring at both of them. "The best kind... the one we picked ourselves," Jim finished, feeling foolish but meaning every word. 

"Well, you know what they say," Blair said, his voice carrying that airy, 'I'm being a smartass and I know it' tone, "you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's noseUMPH!" He yelped as his lover dumped him on the floor and the third member of his family cheerfully joined the fray, giggling uncontrollably. 

"Hey, HEY!" Blair yelled from under the dog-pile. "You owe me ten bucks, Ellison!" he managed to get out between laughing and squirming to get away. 

* * *

"So, tell me about this wedding," Sullivan said once they were back in the truck headed east. She had a cup of coffee on her lap and seemed more awake. Jim studied her with his senses; her heart-rate was up and she seemed nervous, but he couldn't figure out why. The conversation he had half-overheard back at the Arby's still bothered him, setting off his warning bells, but again, there was no real reason for it. Resolving to be on the alert, Jim let it simmer in the back of his mind. 

"Well, Todd's from Brighton," Blair said, in the backseat again at his own request. "His parents are divorced but are still civil to each other, and he sees both of them." 

"Todd goes to MIT," Jim volunteered, forgetting Blair had already said that. He liked Todd, despite the fact the young man had designs on Stacey. "They told us all they didn't want a fancy wedding, just something simple at Todd's church, a Unitarian Universalist. The wedding itself will only have, what, about two dozen people there, Sandburg?" 

"Yeah," Blair replied. "And the reception will have only about a hundred, max. The Harrisons aren't wealthy, but they aren't hurting, and we went in with them on the cost of the reception. Stacey allowed _that_ anyway." 

"Stubborn girl," Jim said with fond exasperation. "We wanted to at least help pay for the wedding, but she wouldn't let us. Absolutely refused." 

"Then, of course," Blair said, chuckling, "she went and put our names on the invitation! It's not like she had to worry, though, nothing except maybe an earthquake knocking Cascade into the bay would have kept us away." 

"Sandburg, don't go buying trouble," Jim said, grinning in the mirror. Blair stuck his tongue out at him. 

* * *

**EARLY NOVEMBER, THIS YEAR**

_Mr. James J. Ellison and Mr. Blair Sandburg_

_Ms. Patricia Staley Harrison_  
 _and_  
 _Mr. Edward Harrison_

_Request the honor of your presence_  
 _at the marriage ceremony of_

_Stacey Marie Neumann_  
 _and_  
 _Todd Edward Harrison_

_Saturday, December the Fifth_  
 _at six o'clock in the evening_  
 _in the Fenton Street Unitarian Universalist Church of Brighton, Michigan_

_Reception immediately to follow_

"Along with the breakdown of one of the 'dads'," Blair added, passing the thick, gray card back to Jim. 

"I can't believe she put our names on the invitation," Jim said, trying to figure out if he was pleased or appalled or confused or all three. Then what Blair said clicked. "Hey! I will _not_ ," he said, and Blair snickered. 

"She can put anyone and anything she wants on the card, Jim," he said, hanging his jacket up on the hook. "She's paying for it." 

"Yeah, I know that, trust me," Jim replied sourly. "She could have at least let us pay for her gown. I wanted it to be a wedding present." 

Blair shrugged as he headed into the kitchen. Jim put the invitation on the counter then added his own jacket to the rack. "Stacey's been on her own for a while now," Blair said, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and asking with his eyebrow if Jim wanted one. At Jim's nod, he pulled out a second. "She probably feels very independent, very used to being solitary. Reminds me of me, actually," he added pensively. Then, more decisively, he continued. "Make no mistake, it was hard on her, growing through her teenage years without a mother and father; so it's only natural that she looks to us as her family. The Simpsons," Blair finished, a wicked gleam in his eye. 

"Don't start that again," Jim warned him, opening his beer and trying hard not to chuckle. He reached out and gathered Blair into his arms gently, allowing him to lean back against his chest comfortably. They stood there for a moment, drinking their beers, cuddling at the end of the day, until Jim sighed. "I'm glad you found low fares out to Detroit for us. I know this'll be a better 'vacation' than our trip to Texas was, even if we can't go golfing. I just hope it doesn't snow." 

Blair shrugged, sending ripples down Jim's body. "It's Michigan; it's winter. It snows. We'll deal." 

"Mr. Fatalistic," Jim grinned and gently bit Blair's earlobe. 

Humming happily, Blair tilted his head, inviting more attention. "It's not like I'll have to drive, Mr. of-course-I'm-the-best-driver," he said. "And don't start something you're not able to finish, man..." he finished gasping, as Jim gnawed his way gently down to his shoulder. 

"Who said I wasn't?" Jim growled into Blair's ear. Blair froze for an instant then took off for the steps. 

"Well, bring it _on_ ," he happily caroled, thundering upstairs. Jim wasted no time in following. 

* * *

Even had they not known about Ann Arbor, it would have been apparent it was a college town from the moment they hit the outskirts. "GO BLUE!" read the ubiquitous signs -- on billboards, bumpers and in shop windows. There was something indefinable about a town ruled by a big university, something that made it feel like a small town while still being a big one. 

"U of M has a good shot at the Rose Bowl this year, don't they?" Blair asked idly as yet another sign appeared. 

"Good team," Jim grunted, negotiating the snowy streets carefully. It was thankfully late enough that any rush hour was long past, but that meant that the roads were less traveled and therefore more snow-covered. "Where's our turn?" Jim asked. 

"Should be another half-mile or so," Blair replied. "Look for Dobson, it'll be on the right. We're right bang on time, Stacey and Todd should be pulling in within fifteen." 

Finding the still-open Alamo rental place was fairly easy, and Jim yanked the paperwork out of the glove compartment after parking. There was -- as yet -- no sign of Todd or Stacey. "I'll go in and take care of the bill," Jim said, then turned to Sullivan. "Do you need help with your bag?" 

"No, no, I've got it," she said. "I'd like to come in with you, I want to take over the contract on this car to get to my meeting." 

"Okay." Jim left Blair to get their suitcase and garment bag out of the car, as well as checking it over for leftovers and trash, while he went inside with Sullivan. When he emerged, leaving Sullivan haggling with the clerk, a large old-fashioned station wagon was just pulling into the parking lot, and he saw Stacey's big smile from behind the glass of the passenger window. Another car pulled in immediately after them, parking on the other side of the building. 

"Jim! Blair!" Stacey was out of the car the moment it stopped and hugging the two men. Todd climbed out of the driver's side -- waiting for a moment as yet another car entered the lot and parked -- and came around to shake their hands. 

"You made good time," he said, hefting the big suitcase. "Let's get this in the car and we can head home. I'm sure you're tired of driving..." 

He got no further. Jim's attention had been wrenched away from the three of them when he heard a very familiar, very scary noise -- the snick of a gun being cocked. From the one car that had entered just after Todd, three big men emerged, holding automatic weapons against their legs. From the second car, four other men appeared, also carrying weapons. And two more cars were pulling in, far too rapidly for weather conditions. 

Sullivan walked out of the building and froze as she saw the first set, then dropped her bag and pulled a gun from her purse. Jim yelled "DOWN!", gathered up Blair, Stacey and Todd and pulled them to the rear of the big wagon just as all hell erupted. 

There seemed to be three distinct groups involved, Jim noted from behind the protective cover of the large car. Sullivan, still clutching her shoulder-bag/briefcase, had ducked behind a pillar and was firing at the first car. The men from the second car were firing at the first car too, and at the other cars which had just pulled in. Behind Sullivan, the huge picture windows of the Alamo store shattered with a tremendous concussion, spraying glass everywhere. The sound of automatic gunfire and the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air. 

Jim had dug through the suitcase until he found his holstered gun, but he didn't fire, not wanting to draw attention to them. He absently noted Blair's calm recitation of the location and facts into his cell phone to the 911 operator, and in the distance, already heard sirens. Stacey had one hand over her ear, and the other ear was buried in Todd's coat. Todd was wide-eyed and his mouth gaped open as he held her close. 

The sirens were getting closer, and one of the cars -- the last to pull in -- slammed into reverse in an attempt to flee. Taking careful aim from around the corner of the wagon, Jim shot out two tires in quick succession, causing the vehicle to spin and flip onto its side, blocking the driveway. A good dozen police cars -- city, county and university -- pulled up then, blocking every exit, officers boiling out of them and shouting for surrender. One of the men from the first car leapt up and ran for the building, firing his semi-automatic at both the police and the second car as he went. Before Jim could do anything, a sharpshooter from the police got him, and he dropped like a stone. 

That seemed to be the end of it. Miraculously, in all the cross-fire, neither they nor the car was hurt in any way. 

Stacey gulped and lowered her hand from her ear. "Is it over?" she whispered. 

Blair gave her a hug. "It looks like it, Sweetie," he said. "Jim?" 

"Everyone okay?" Jim asked, pulling his shield out of his pocket before rising, holding it up and over his head. At their affirmatives, he added, "Stay down until we're identified. Don't make any sudden moves." More police were arriving, and three were jogging towards him, their weapons drawn. 

* * *

It was amazing, Blair thought, how much cops were alike just about everywhere. Within ten minutes, Jim was on a first-name basis with about half the officers on the site. He had been offered coffee and travel advice; the captain on the scene had offered him a job. His report to them was succinct, and it was pretty obvious that neither he nor Blair had much to contribute to the story. 

Sullivan's shoulder case turned out to be holding about half a million dollars in large bills. And, as it turned out, Sullivan was no longer Agent Sullivan. She had indeed been sacked after Stacey's case was concluded, and apparently had gone into business for herself, couriering money across country for arms dealers, drug dealers, or whoever wanted to hire her. 

In this case, it was drug dealers, and rival gangs apparently wanted a piece of the action. Or something like that. Blair was beginning to wear down after all the travel and adrenaline, and found himself not really caring what the whole story was. As long as Sullivan was handcuffed, the bad guys were handcuffed, and he had a warm place to sit, he was happy. 

That warm spot was in a diner across the street, where he, Stacey and Todd waited for Jim to finish up so they could leave. The patrons and employees of the diner were flabbergasted by the entire shoot-out, and pumped the three of them for the story or shamelessly listened in while they gave their statements to various police officers. Finally, at just before ten o'clock -- about an hour after they had arrived -- Jim breezed in, shaking snow and slush from his coat and boots. "Ready, Chief? Stacey, Todd? They're done with us now, so we can take off." 

"Excellent," Blair muttered, waving to the waitress who had served them. "I am so ready for a warm bed and a good night's sleep." 

"You and me both, Sandburg," Jim replied, giving him a surreptitious pinch to the butt. Blair mock glared at him, but leaned into his side briefly. "Todd," Jim continued, ushering them back to the Alamo lot, "I had to give the captain your phone number, in case they need further information. It's pretty doubtful, though." 

"That's okay, Jim," Todd said. He had been curiously silent for most of the evening, and Blair was worried he was in shock. His next statement disproved that, though. "Do you think we'll have to testify or anything? That would be _so_ cool. This whole thing... I'm just in awe. I feel like I'm in a movie! Does this kind of stuff happen to you guys a lot? You know, shoot-outs, drug running... how utterly excellent!" 

Jim looked at Blair in horror, then rubbed his forehead as if it pained him. "Let's... let's just get home, okay, Todd? We can talk about it more in the morning." 

"Oh, sure. Come on, you guys must be exhausted." 

To Blair's surprise, Jim turned down the shotgun seat and instead opted to join Blair in the backseat. After buckling up, Jim scooted over as far to the middle as he could, pulling Blair to him with an arm over his shoulder. As the vehicle was old enough to not have shoulder harnesses in the backseat, Blair managed to snuggle quite nicely. 

"I can't take you anywhere, Ellison," he said, his head dropping wearily onto Jim's shoulder. 

"What'd I do?" Jim asked plaintively. "It wasn't my fault, I did warn you about Sullivan..." 

"Yeah, yeah," Blair replied, yawning hugely. The busy day was finally catching up with him. "Trouble follows you like a magnet," he added. 

"Oh, just me, huh?" Jim said, squeezing his shoulder. Blair meant to make a smartass reply, but the next thing he knew, the car was stopping and Jim was shaking him gently. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he heard. 

"Huh?" Blair tried to lift himself off Jim's shoulder and winced at the crick his neck had suddenly developed. "Wha--? Are we there?" 

Jim reached up and rubbed the back of his neck gently. "You went out like a light, Junior," he said. "We're at Pat's house. Come on, it's late, I want to get this party horizontal." 

"Such an animal," Blair muttered, grinning as he yawned, stretched and climbed out of the car. 

It was even colder in Brighton, but the sky was beginning to clear and the stars were brilliant. Patricia Harrison, Todd's mother, met them at the door to her house, a modest ranch-style house probably fifteen to twenty years old. They went in, grateful to get out of the cold, and shucked boots and coats at the door. 

"Jim, Blair, so nice to meet you in person, finally," Pat said. She was a tall woman with graying, sandy-blonde hair who looked to be about ten years older than Jim. She shook their hands, smiling warmly. "Your room is all set up. Todd and RJ are at their Dad's house, and Stacey will be here with you." 

"Are you sure we're not putting you out..." Blair began, but she smiled wider and shook her head adamantly. 

"Absolutely not. You're family now, as much as this little girl is." She gave Stacey a hug. "Todd, you'd best get over to your dad's place, it's getting late. We've got a busy day tomorrow." 

"Yeah, I'm off, Mom," he said, kissing her cheek, then giving his intended a much better kiss. "I'll be over for breakfast. See you in the morning!" 

Stacey was sleeping in the room that once belonged to Todd and his brother, Richard James -- RJ -- and Jim and Blair had their older sister's room -- a guest room now that she had family of her own. Blair eyed the queen-size bed appreciatively while Jim put their garment bag in the closet. Pat bid them goodnight from the door of the room, after showing them the amenities. "It sounds like you had a rather exciting night," she said dryly. Todd had called her from the road and briefly sketched in the details. "We can talk in the morning. Why don't you hit the hay? You look to be asleep on your feet." 

"Thanks, Pat," Jim said, giving her a tired smile. "You're right. And this lump slept most of the way up from Ann Arbor." 

For once, Blair didn't feel like refuting the gentle teasing, and instead just smiled sheepishly. 

Even having to unpack to find things, they were ready for bed in record time. The bed had a thick quilt under the duvet, and Blair sighed with pleasure as he snuggled up to Jim, who obligingly wrapped his arms and legs around his ever-chilly lover. "We made it," he mumbled. 

"Yeah. And in time for the rehearsal, too," Jim replied, nuzzling his hair. 

* * *

The next day was busy. Jim woke early to brilliant sunshine on the snow, and the smells of frying bacon and perking coffee. Leaving Blair to sleep on, he wrapped himself in his robe and padded to the bathroom, then followed the smells to the kitchen. 

Todd was already there, chatting with his mom, who was wrapped in her own robe and cooking breakfast. They turned when he walked into the room. 

"Morning, Jim," Pat said, smiling. "Coffee?" 

"I'd love some, but I'll get it. Just point me to the right cabinet," Jim replied, and pulled a mug from the one she indicated. "Morning, Todd." 

"Good morning," Todd replied. "I've just been telling Mom all about what happened last night." 

Wincing internally, Jim poured himself a cup of coffee, fixed it the way he liked it, and sat at the table with Todd. "Um, sorry about that," he said. 

"It sounds very -- um, interesting," Pat said, her voice bland, her back to the rest of the room. "Todd, why don't you go get Stacey up? We can eat breakfast in about twenty." 

"Okay, Mom," Todd said, leaving the room. 

Pat walked over to the coffee pot and refreshed her cup, then turned to Jim, leaning on the counter. Her face was an interesting study. "Jim, please tell me this sort of thing isn't an everyday occurrence for you. Because I can tell you right now... my heart won't take the strain." 

Jim smiled weakly into his coffee, purposefully not answering; he'd better not tell her he'd brought his gun, he decided. 

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Jim. The rehearsal was at two at the church, a pleasant place -- all soaring ceilings and skylights. The sun was shining brightly and it was bitterly cold, a condition that looked to continue for the wedding day. There was only one minor glitch; Todd's great-aunt Carrie (who had the unfortunate tendency to call her niece Patsy) insisted on a receiving line at the end of the wedding, something Todd and Stacey were adamantly against. The stress of the day and the argument had Stacey close to tears; Jim finally took her aside and gave her a hug, giving her his handkerchief. 

"I'm sorry," Stacey whispered, shaking with the effort to hold back tears. "I feel so stupid." 

"Hey, none of that," Jim said, brushing her hair back from her face and wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "Didn't you know it's a tradition that the bride break down in tears at least once before the wedding?" 

Stacey snurfled and smiled tremulously. "It is?" 

"Uh-huh. Don't worry about it, honey. Everything will be fine." 

"I'm so glad you and Blair are here, Jim," Stacey said, hugging him tightly. Then it was Jim's turn to hold back tears. He just hoped he would be able to get through the next day. 

Eventually, Pat and Ed, Todd's father -- with Blair playing his usual peacekeeping force -- managed to get a compromise with Aunt Carrie. There would be a receiving line, but only the bride and groom, his parents, and Jim and Blair would be in it. And it would be at the church, not the reception hall -- just inside the vestibule in deference to the weather -- so that Stacey and Todd would be able to enjoy themselves and not have to stand forever. Aunt Carrie was slightly mollified, but was still showing her displeasure. 

"And here I thought she'd object to the two of us," Blair muttered to Jim, while the minister was working out the logistics of the ceremony with Todd and Stacey. 

"Naw," Jim whispered back, watching the two young people fondly. "Stacey having 'two fathers' doesn't bother her, as long as we obey the proper etiquette." 

"Makes me want to spike the punch or dance on the tables, man," Blair said, barely containing his mirth. 

"You might want to clear that with Stace first," Jim replied, grinning at Blair. 

"Well, I do intend to have at least one dance with you, you know," Blair whispered, and Jim blinked. 

"You do?" 

A slightly feral grin was his only reply. 

* * *

The weather held, and the wedding day dawned clear and cold. The snow had been cleared from the roads, and where it was unbroken on the ground, it had a hard, shiny glaze to it. Kathleen Phillips, Todd's older sister, was over by noon, and she, Todd's mother, and Stacey's best friend Amy -- who had flown out from Portland the week before -- sequestered themselves in the basement rec room, primping. Jim and Blair spent most of the day at Ed Harrison's apartment, watching football with the Harrison men. By four, they were back at Pat's house, getting ready to be at the church by five. 

To Jim's amusement, it was Blair that seemed to suddenly develop a case of the jitters, while Jim, for some reason, remained calm and collected. Blair couldn't tie his tie, he broke one of his studs, and he lost the base to one of his cufflinks. Regardless, they were fully dressed and ready to go when Pat came upstairs, and she blinked at them, her eyes widening in appreciation. 

"Whoa. You, um, you guys clean up nice," she said, swallowing and chuckling. 

A clatter on the stairs announced Amy, Kathleen and Stacey, all of whom smiled appreciatively at the two men. Stacey picked up the two white rose boutonnieres from the kitchen table and fastened one on Jim, the other on Blair. "You two look absolutely scrumptious," she said, her voice calm and steady. But Jim could hear her heart, and it was beating like a trapped bird's. 

"You look beautiful, honey," he said sincerely, kissing her cheek lightly. And she did; her gown was simple, just barely floor-length and ivory colored, with an overlay of antique lace at the throat, cuffs, waist and hem. Her hair was falling down her back in soft waves, but was pulled away from her face with pretty blue hairpins, threaded with baby's breath. She was a vision. 

Kathleen and Amy, the matron and maid of honor respectively, were wearing simple dark blue gowns, mid-calf length, and were flushed and happy-looking. Pat was wearing a flowing pantsuit in a rich chocolate brown, and had her own corsage pinned to the lapel of her vest. "Are we ready?" she asked, looking around. 

Stacey swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay," Pat continued. "Here's the plan. Kathleen will take Amy and Stacey, I'll take these two gorgeous guys -- boy, I hope Susie sees me with you two! -- and we'll meet at the church. The flowers are already there. Let's get this show on the road!" 

Blair jiggled all the way to the church, his heart trip-hammering. Jim kept shooting him glances from the front seat as he chatted with Pat -- he still felt unaccountably calm and serene, as if all the stress and nervousness had been bled out of him before the wedding and now all he had to do was take a walk. When they walked into the controlled chaos of the church, Jim hung up both of their coats and steered Blair to the office, where they would wait with Stacey and the bridesmaids for the music to start. Blair stared at Stacey and kept blinking, and his breath coming in hitches. 

Jim stood behind him and leaned into his shoulder. "You all right, Chief?" he asked, unable to keep a bit of amusement out of his voice. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Blair replied, then sniffed. "I -- I just can't keep from thinking about her in a ragged hospital gown, clutching my Haida doll, you know?" 

"Yeah. I remember." Jim felt a band tighten around his own chest as he looked at the girl who had become so very important in their lives. Neither of them had any burning need to be a full-time parent, to raise a child. But with Stacey, as with Jesse and Daryl and so many other young people, their lives had been -- were continuously being -- enriched. 

The music started. Amy and Kathleen gave Stacey one last, brief hug, then gathered their flowers and preceded them out of the office, down the hall. Stacey took Jim's right arm and Blair's left, and was slowly escorted into the sanctuary, as the wedding guests stood. 

Todd waited at the altar, his mother and father flanking him, his two groomsmen -- his brother and college roommate -- behind him. But he had eyes only for his bride-to-be, who suddenly stiffened and pulled her arm from Jim's. He gave her a quick, startled look, but her face was still calm. Then she pressed something into his hand -- her engagement ring. Oops, she had forgotten to remove it. He smiled at her reassuringly as he surreptitiously tucked it into his pocket. 

Then they were there. The minister -- a middle-aged man with deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes -- greeted them with a smile and launched into the ceremony as the music drifted to an end. 

"We have come together today to witness a sacred rite, that of marriage," he began. "Marriage is an ancient institution which has changed many, many times over the ages, but today, we celebrate it with a melding of traditions, appropriate for this place, and for this time. 

"The bride's heritage is Jewish, so among other customs we involve her parents as well as the groom's parents to present the couple to you. The groom's heritage is British, and so we invoke certain Christian rituals as well, melding them together much as we hope this couple will meld for all time. 

"Who presents this young man to be wed?" the minister then asked. 

"We do," Pat and Ed replied, Ed's voice cracking slightly, Pat's thick with tears. 

"Who presents this young woman to be wed?" he continued. 

"We do," Jim and Blair replied, equally overcome with emotion. 

"Then I discharge you of your obligation, and ask that you lay down your guardianship at this time, so that these two people may join in matrimony." 

Briefly hugging Stacey, Jim and Blair turned and took their assigned seats in the front row. Blair took Jim's hand the moment they sat, and held tightly as they watched. The ceremony wasn't long, but it was lovely. The minister had the couple drink from two goblets on the altar -- one filled with dark red wine and the other with pale golden wine -- symbolizing the bitter and the sweet of marriage. Both Todd and Stacey had chosen readings, and it didn't surprise anyone that Stacey's was from the Book of Ruth. As the minister read, "Whither thou goest..." Jim turned to Blair, feeling the words right down into his soul. Blair looked back, then leaned forward to touch his forehead to Jim's. 

Todd's reading was from Bertrand Russell, of all people, and out of the corner of his eye Jim caught Pat smiling through her tears. Then they lit one fat candle from two long tapers, and the minister gave the benediction as the music -- Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring, from the Shaker hymn -- began. 

"What has started as two, now becomes one, as I pronounce you husband and wife. May your life together be filled with joy, laughter and friendship, and may you live in harmony and peace for the rest of your days." Smiling widely, the minister finished by saying, "You can go ahead and kiss her now, Todd." 

And Todd did, wrapping his arms around Stacey and planting one on her that had the crowd -- which was standing and applauding -- also chuckling. Wiping suspicious moisture from his cheeks, Jim stood with the rest and clapped, then followed behind Pat and Ed down the aisle to the front of the church, Blair's hand still held firmly in his. 

* * *

It took a little while for Jim to catch up with the bride at the hall where the reception was, but eventually, he did so. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the antique engagement ring and handed it to her. Sheepishly, she slid it on to her finger over her wedding ring. "Thanks, Jim," she said, hugging him. "I can't believe I forgot to take it off." 

"I won't tell if you don't," Jim quipped, hugging her back. Todd and Blair joined them, Todd handing his new wife a cup of punch, and Jim taking the beer bottle from Blair and draining half. 

"Hey, watch it Ellison," Blair said, laughing as he snatched the bottle back. "Go get your own." 

"The honeymoon must be over," Jim said dolefully, wrapping one arm around Blair's neck. "He won't wait on me hand and foot any more." 

"You moron," Blair said, ruining the headlock by winding his arm around Jim's middle. "That was an absolutely beautiful ceremony, guys," he added, to Stacey and Todd, who were also arm-in-arm. 

"Thanks," Stacey beamed. 

"It helped that the minister is pretty open-minded and knew a lot about various ceremonies," Todd added. 

"But you wouldn't break the glass, honey," Stacey said, a mischievous grin on her face. 

"Not gonna go there, Stace," he replied, blushing. 

As Pat and Ed joined them, Stacey laughed. "Hey, what I want to know is, when are you two going to tie the knot?" she said, indicating Blair and Jim. "I mean, you've only been shacking up for what, four or five years?" 

" _You_ have had too much champagne," Jim said firmly, lifting her punch glass from her hand. 

"Have not," she replied, giggling. "It's a legitimate question -- it just took you two like forEVER to figure out _why_ you were living together! I mean, I know you can't get married like us, even though that sucks..." 

"It certainly does," Pat agreed. 

"But haven't you ever thought about having a commitment ceremony or anything?" Todd asked. The band was starting to tune up, and he had to raise his voice. 

Jim looked at Blair. Blair looked at Jim. Both frowned slightly, blinking in thought. Then, as one, they turned back to the four people facing them. "Naaaah..." they chorused, and everyone laughed. 

* * *

Later that evening, after dinner, and toasts, and the bouquet toss, and the garter toss (which Jim refused to let Blair participate in), and dancing and drinking and a lot of laughter, Blair pulled Jim from his comfortable seat in the shadows. "C'mon, man, one last dance. I'll let you lead this time." 

The band was playing a slow, bluesy tune that Jim almost recognized as he let himself be pulled to the half-filled floor. No one had so much as raised an eyebrow at the two of them that evening, and Jim was glad. He feared for the life of anyone who pissed off Stacey this night, and saying something about their relationship was a sure-fire way to do it. Wrapping Blair in his arms, he swayed in time to the music, enjoying the smell of his lover's hair, the feel of him in his arms, and the freedom to do both in public without censure. 

"This has been a wonderful evening, hasn't it," he said softly. 

"Yeah." Blair sighed with happiness, then looked up. "I love you," he said. 

Jim felt his face might split with the smile on it as he replied, "I love you too." After a moment, he added, "You know, what Stacey and Todd said, about a commitment ceremony..." 

Blair chuckled and shook his head. "What the hell do we need with a ceremony, Ellison?" he asked. "We're already committed to each other. Face it, man, you're _mine_." 

Contemplating that, Jim nodded slightly, looking across the floor at Todd and Stacey, dancing together. "Yeah, I guess I am at that." 

"And don't you forget it," Blair added, then put his head back on Jim's shoulder and squeezed his hand. "And I'm yours," he finished, so softly that none but a Sentinel could hear it. 

And his Sentinel did, indeed hear it. And his Sentinel smiled. 

* * *

End SVS2-10: Fathers of the Bride by MrsHamill: FiveSenses@yahoogroups.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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